


Nothing

by dawnstruck



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstruck/pseuds/dawnstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Kieren wonders what Simon was like before he died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly a little bit disjoined as it was written in two spontaneous bouts, but this fandom needs definitely more fanworks, so I thought I might join in.

There is something about Simon that is incredibly serious, somber even. Whenever he moves it's with special intent, with deliberation. When he turns his head to look at someone he does it slowly like he has all the time in the world. And technically, Kieren figures, he kinda does.

It's just... in many way, Kieren is still so stuck on being alive, on trying to fit in. He knows he doesn't need oxygen, but his body still keeps breathing, his chest rising with every inhale. It's just another part of the facade, just like the contact lenses and the mousse.

Simon doesn't breathe. Sometimes he stands somewhere, completely still, his skin pale and cold, and if it weren't for the wind brushing over his hair, his clothes, one might think him a marble statue.

A statue come alive, walking with stiff joints but also with a certain grace. Always a little bit out of place, always a little bit perfect.

So Kieren wonders whether Simon was always like this. When he was a teenager, was he already old beyond his years? Did he get in with a bad crowd before, back when he first started doing drugs? Was he the one mature boy in his class who constantly got picked on by his annoyingly adolescent peers?

Kieren was always the awkward kid, the skinny one who never quite grew into his long limbs. The one the others called queer before he even really knew what it meant. He had friends, sure, he had Rick especially. That's why it was such a blow when he lost him, once, twice, three times. That's why it's all so tragically unfair.

So he wonders how Simon endured it all. How he became the man he is today.

Is he old beyond his years because he died? Or because he led a life that never did him right?

He kind of wants to know, but he doesn't really want to ask. Just like he wants Simon to know about Rick and everything and yet doesn't want to talk about it.

But most of the time he envies Simon his decisiveness, even if he cannot agree with many of his choices. Because while Simon obviously had some very shrewd beliefs forced on him, Kieren cannot deny that the same has been done to himself.   
Always wear your lenses. Act like a living being. Partake in dinner to placate your family. Never talk about the Rising.

Maybe now... now that everyone seems to have reached a stalemate for a while, with the Prophet's followers robbed of their Disciple and Maxime Martin no longer poisoning the minds of the people, maybe now they can meet halfway in between.

 

So they do. And it's so... incredibly normal, all things considered. 

They go for walks or watch a film, talk about their favourite comic book heroes. Kieren is strictly Spiderman, but Simon keeps insisting on Hawkeye. At least they can agree on Marvel.

Rick always favoured DC and Superman. And Kieren doesn't want to compare, but he just cannot help it.

And he is relieved, incredibly relieved, when he can't seem to find any similarities between Rick and Simon.

Rick was always so worried about everything. Whether his dad would find out, what his friends would say, whether fooling around with his best mate made him any less of a man.  
Kieren couldn't really blame him, but none of it made things easier.

Simon, for a lack of better words, doesn't give a damn.

Simon is from the city. He has been with other men before. He doesn't care whether people see his white eyes or whether they see him kissing Kieren. 

Kieren revels in the fact that he can just push Simon up against a wall and ravish him without having to worry about possibly sending him into an existential crisis.

 

And Simon, Christ, Simon is a great kisser. 

When Kieren kisses him, pent-up and frustrated, Simon will catch it all, takeh his face between gentle hands and kiss him back as if there was nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. Like the most important moment of his life was right now, with his cold lips against Kieren's and his eyes closed and breathing in, not for the sake of oxygen, but just to absorb another part of Kieren, even if it were just the air that had just been in another set of lungs.

Kieren wonders whether Simon had ever kissed anyone else like this and tries to quench the unwarranted jealousy in his stomach.

 

They've been sitting on the old sofa in Amy's bungalow when Kieren glances up and notices Simon staring once more.

"What are you thinking of?" Simon asks, and there is not even real curiosity in his voice, as if he is merely asking in hope of hearing Kieren's voice answer.

Slowly, Kieren smiles and gives a little shrug.

"Nothing," he says.

 

What Kieren doesn't know:

When he walked through the bungalow's door that night and stepped up close to Simon and pushed and kissed and just did not retreat, he did sent Simon into an existential crisis. Not about his sexuality, God no. But in regards to his beliefs, his purpose.

Kieren was so literally dead-set against the preachings of the Prophet that there seemed to be no way to ever get along comfortably. 

When Amy had first told him about Kieren and his past, Simon had thought it so easy to come to Roarton and find another willing follower. Someone who just craved love like Amy did, love Simon was willing to give, at least to an extent.

But Kieren was stubborn and sceptical. Kieren looked at him and was not enamored, but frowned and snorted a lot. If not for Amy's sake, he'd probably just rolled his eyes and left the moment Simon opened his mouth.

So instead of simply manipulating Kieren Walker, Simon found himself intrigued by this man who would forever be the boy who had died for love. 

And dear God, Simon is well aware of how starstruck he must seem in Kieren's presence.

Whenever he looks at him his eyes blink open almost sleepily, as if he were waking from a trance ever time and Kieren's face is the only clear thing he has seen in a while. Like Kieren is the morning sun.

Maybe he is.

Because First Risen or not, Kieren is the first thing that Simon has genuinly enjoyed about his own existence. Before the Prophet, the experiments, the foggy haze directly after the Rising and the destructive highs of the drugs there was just... nothing. As far as he can remember, he had always been desperately trying to find a purpose or at least a distraction.

Kieren, though.... Kieren had become someone Simon can focus on. 

An enigma that kisses him and keeps him on his toes, that doubts his attitude towards the world and then scratches the deep scars that run down along his wrist.

Simon knows that Kieren doesn't love him, not yet and maybe he never will. But those silent moments in between are all worth it. Those stolen glances and kisses that are bestowed like gifts or casually pressed against the corner of his mouth, almost in an afterthought.

All that makes it worth it.

Simon doesn't need a purpose when he's with Kieren. He doesn't need to think about the future or the past or the world outside these meager walls. It's better than any drug, any lover he ever had, not intoxicating like alcohol or eye-opening like the Prophet's words. It's exciting in a comfortable sort of way, and if his heart still beat it would flutter whenever Kieren walked into the room.

 

"What are you thinking of?" he asks Kieren as they sit on the old sofa and the afternoon sunlight streams through the window, illuminating the dancing dust particles in the air.

Kieren's lips quirk up and he lifts his shoulders a little like he does whenever he is unconcerned by something.

"Nothing," he replies casually, leaning back against the rest, "You?"

"Nothing," Simon replies evenly and Kieren's eyes twinkle playfully before he leans over and presses his mouth against Simon's.

Immediately, Simon's arms come up, wrapping around Kieren's slender frame and pulling him closer, and Kieren lets it happen, melts into him, for once all of the grief and fear and confusion of their undead lives forgotten.  
This, Simon thinks, finally realizing that maybe the Rising really was a second chance, This is what I came back for.


End file.
